#sicariav

[iwasbeingafather]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 // @sicariav

“c’mere, we don’t have to get up just yet.”

"I definitely need to get up soon." Not that he's looking forward to getting out of his warm and comfortable bed. He's also not looking to leaving Bucky, either. But he does have to get up at some point. He has to go to work and he probably should go this time. Not call in pretending to be sick even if laying there all day sounds great to him.

"Okay---I'll stay for another ten minutes." Then he'd need to get in the shower and get dressed. He's also going to need coffee. A lot of coffee because the day is going to drag. At least being in a new office, he doesn't have to see Neal, because he has a face that Andy would love to punch given the chance.

"Are we still going to get dinner after I get done with work." He can't help the yawn that slips out.

[brooklynbred-moved]

Send  🩹  to  patch  my  muse  up  after  a  fight. - @sicariav.

steve was pretty sure he wasn't ever going to get used to this whole thing. he knew bucky could handle himself. he could before , and he certainly could now. but there was still the part of the blonde that didn't want to see the man he cared so much about be in pain. still , just about every time bucky managed to get a bad enough cut , steve was usually more than willing to help him. steve always just wanted to help. once again back at it with the first aid kit , he gave bucky a gentle , and loving look before starting with the stitching.

' i'm startin t'think you do this on purpose. ' he playfully cided. a loving smile on his features as he stitched the other up. ' almost like you might be doin it on purpose buck. '

[rejectory]

@sicariav *

It’s ringing through him that Bucky’s never touched him like this. Other ways, yes. Chin grab to get as good as his eyeballs up Steve’s raw nose, two rowdy, bloody bullet holes for nostrils; having the back of his neck palmed and the private fingertip width behind the ear reserved for kisses thumbed over like an unsubtle dig.

‘Never’ being an absolute, the only way to be sure is—

❛What?❜

Steve’s put a fumbled two inches between his mug and Bucky’s syrette-high face search, angling to see him better. His cover’s that and the toe-curling ticklishness at being handled with care after months of not feeling a thing.

The only way to be sure is to have consciously kept track. He still loopy? Checking his pupils gets sabotaged by the backlit perspective, but Steve decides he’s right. Crushingly close, Bucky’s lip lines separate like on a mushroom’s underbelly. He’s, uh.

Like hell that’d get understood, but he’s pretty enough that Steve feels stupid about it.

❛You know you can’t do that anymore. This isn’t a back alley.❜

Having been saving that one, he’s always thought, meant it would feel like a paid-off home mortgage to throw it back in Bucky’s face. But all he has to show for it is a funny sting.

[brooklynbred]

CLOSED STARTER. / @sicariav.

the days following whatever had happened to make steve go back to the body he had before the serum were hell. thankfully , modern medicine had advanced much further than it had been when he was growing up , but that didn't change the emotional toll this was all going to take on the blonde.

so much time of being captain america. so many years being the shielded hero that always got back up. it was all gone. seemingly overnight.

while his whole team had rallied around him , he knew he couldn't have done it without bucky. he couldn't imagine if this had happened before they were able to rescue him from HYDRA. at least he was used to steve's grumpiness.

' buck ... it's fine. i don't need the blanket. ' he complained. shuffling in his spot in the bed. wincing here and there as he moved. ' you really don't have to be so worried. '

[ravagercherri]

" that ain't lookin' too good. " she says , leaning up against the cold brick of an unknown building. She'd just gotten off a job , but it wasn't uncommon to find people littered through the streets. She wonders what his story is . . . . Cherri always seemed to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

She readjusts herself on her mobility aid , her hand tightening around the crutch but that's the only slight indication she was nervous.

" ya' ain't dead are ya? cause this alley I think belongs to someone and they might actually kill ya when they get back. "

@sicariav

[camerica]

@sicariav​ asked:

He is teeth and fury, a beast wild and ravenous tearing his way through armor and defense alike.

     It’s brutal here. He learned that from day one. Don’t be a fish out of water, don’t offer your hand when someone stumbles, don’t wipe the blood from the Soldier’s brow and tell him he did a good job. This is expected. Anything less is a failure. Anything more is HYDRA.

     Still, he watches out of the corner of his eye, picks up on queues that tell him exactly where the fatal blow will land, how the spine will snap, which way the legs will buckle. In theory, of course. This is training after all. No one loses their life until hubris or sheer stupidity drive them to it.

     “Sign there, sir.” Sir around here feels a lot like spit in the face. It’s a damn good thing he doesn’t know these men. Won’t ever get to. And just to spite the asshole, he turns fully to watch the beast they created do the damn good work he was meant for. Funny how a single man can look so god awfully different in the span of a few years. Tugs right where the strings are.

     Never really noticed how vibrant the blue of Bucky’s eyes could be under a splash of crimson, either. The corners of his lips twitch downwards, brows knitting the longer he watches.

[rejectory]

Sure don’t.

But it sounds to him that Bucky needs this, from all the drawled way over there while the cotton dishcloth’s halfway organically biodegraded from the overlooked bunch in Steve’s hand. If Bucky asked for the moon, he thinks wryly.

Sometimes I dream about trains.

And if the next thing Bucky needs is to work out a kink in the code and wipe high-rankers off the geopolitical map? To trickle his way down, he’d start with the captains.

Steve doesn’t blink. They’re sitting ducks.

❛Happens a lot more than it used to.❜

Than he’d like for people to clue their way into, and the triggers aren’t upfront. Anxiety, he’s been told. Not diagnosed, which to him is a pretty weighty distinction, and psychology’s more Natasha’s field, anyway.

The usual is, closing his eyes brings bad guests knockin’. This one’s about who might go missing if he so much as zones out, and still—having Bucky in the room with him makes his knees want to fold down and him take a crawl on them for everything he did that’s led to this.

Bucky’s to his left.

❛Tony Stark has a cabin off the grid.❜

You and me, he means. If it’s to talk over the feeling of it or having to rely on a name they both know that he adds, ❛I won’t tell him anything y’don’t want me to,❜ he won’t go trying to pick. It’s barely even five-o’clock shadow on his jaw.

❛And he’s not gonna ask.❜

After the first fifteen below-the-belt pries.

"Kittens and fucking rainbows." Throat feels rough and raw with it, cold water run through his slack jaw like he's tasting copper. The second gulp goes down a balm and evens out the sandpaper grit in the lilt.

A half drowned old mutt on the side of the road, he turns. Runs a hand through his hair to slick it back, get a better look at the bulk of the mass in front of him. He looks ragged, run through it, and guilt gnaws at a quiet part of him to be yet another reason. The longer he stays the more they risk it...

"Couldn't sleep huh?" Should he dry his hands on a towel? Sling it over his shoulder? Kneeling between knobs for knees dabbing at a busted nose. Water running pink next to old dishes. It's deja vu of a life you couldn't possibly have led. Can't fathom it. Feels like someone else's clothes.

He doesn't expect a straight answer even if he wanted to ask. Takes it and nestles it somewhere safe while he peels back the curtains overlooking the sink, sticks a finger in the blinds and takes a sweeping glance down at the street. Black car was there when he collapsed. Still there now. Could be someone's day off. His jaw ticks in the grind of his teeth.

"We don't get to sleep easy." Like he's right at home he's rummaging through the cabinets at knee height till he finds the bottle he needs. On the brush pass, he smells the panic sweat like a fine spritz of cologne, catches a bead of it in the muted street lights. His hand twitches like its got a mind of his own, sending satellite signals all the way up to his half scrambled brain that tells him he knows what that skin feels like damp with it.

Some Fourth of July huh, Steve? Look at that finale.

"Thanks for.." Not betraying his trust? Sounds passive aggressive so he grunts it out instead. Leaves it in ambiguity. Repayment comes in the form of cleaning the mess he left behind which- hope you didn't like the plain jane washcloth he's snagging on his way to the couch.

Steve did a damn good job patching him up, there's not much to clean but it pulls his scattered thoughts into focus.

Next step is...well, getting as far as he can away from Steve. Draw the rest of them out elsewhere. They're roaches running for the dark, small factions vying for the right to drag him back under. If he's preemptive enough, he can cut off circulation to enough of them the rest'll die off or get scavenged by the plethora of up and coming. SHIELD made too many enemies too fast.

"Y'wanna talk about it?"

[virna333]

[wcrldliar]

what the fuck is the winter soldier doing here ?

is he even called the winter soldier anymore ?    maria doesn’t know.   she doesn’t think so.   after all,   the files on him had been out,   for as much as maria had tried to get back all the sensitive information twenty-four hours after romanoff had released everything.   then,  there’d been the wakandan authorities stepping in to vouch for his recovery after the chaos of everyone returning again.  an official pardon being put into a neat little envelope while some old,  tired man announced the release of sergeant james buchanan barnes with the honours he’d deserved from the time he did serve the country.

maria had cocked her head to the side the whole time throughout the hearing;   not out of arrogance,   not necessarily.   but maybe out of that small breath of relief that she’d —   maybe she’d finally done something right.   though she doesn’t like thinking about that.   if she does,   then she would’ve had to acknowledge what rogers has done,   and what happened to romanoff.   (   it hurts saying her name now.   both of them.   so maria doesn’t.   )   and then she’d walk away from the hearing,   satisfied,   on to the next thing she’d needed to clean up.

that was the last time she’d seen barnes.

so why the hell had she just spotted him now,   out here in  cologne,  germany ?    she wouldn’t think barnes was any interested in politics.  not that maria is,  either;   but she had had to explain some stuff about the airport the avengers half-destroyed years ago   (   apparently some rich people are still pissed off.   shocker.    )   and,   well.   a quick run up check with dimitri,  an associate,  told her that no,  there would be no reason for winter  — fucking —  soldier to follow her.   so,   what the fuck ?

‘    it’s fine.   ’     maria says into the intercomm in between;   pretends her eyes aren’t on the shadows where she knows  (  former  )  assassins tend to lie in.    (   she doesn’t think about natasha.   couldn’t.   )  ‘    i’ll keep an eye out on him.    ’

so,   maria clinks champagne glasses through the night,   and fields off arrogant politicians’ questions about any possible thoughts for compensation.    so,   they drawl,   hands over their stomach as they stare her down.   classic intimidation tactic.   cute that they think it’d work on her.   you are saying the avengers will take no responsibility over this ?   no.  because she knows that the global council had already pardoned the group even for that. 

it hurts  -   pretending to smile so much.   she almost half wishes she could join barnes on whatever-the-hell mission that’d sent him here,   before she catches herself.   what a stupid thought.   she just misses —  rogers.   she just misses natasha.   and barnes would probably be out of sight in a couple of hours,   right ?    ...   right ?

    @sicariav​   :   starter call

[thanksbarton-moved]

@sicariav​

“I do not want to go to some party. I don’t think you do either. So, I’m just not going to go.”​ He had that option now, right? Just blow people off because he was retired. “I mean who is going to miss me there, really?”

[youxmove]

"Bucky," Sharon tries again, fighting the urge not to reach out and grab his arm- knowing that would likely make things worse...make him more dangerous. "Hey- look at me. I will help you. I will, but I need you to take a breath- please. Let me help you...but you need to calm down. You need to stop and think.....please...please."

"Bucky," Sharon tries again, fighting the urge not to reach out and grab his arm- knowing that would likely make things worse...make him more dangerous. "Hey- look at me. I will help you. I will, but I need you to take a breath- please. Let me help you...but you need to calm down. You need to stop and think.....please...please."

[iwasbeingafather]

Andy looks like he needs a good backrub. So while he's bent over his laptop, Bucky's sliding in for a kiss to the neck and a thumb traveling down his spine. @sicariav

----

He is in fact bent over his laptop and he probably looks like he’s concentrating incredibly hard on what’s on the laptop. Truth of the matter is, he hasn’t been able to concentrate all day, and it’s probably because Jacob came home with materials about colleges. 

Something that has crept up on him. He should’ve expected it. But he hadn’t and now he’s sort of scrambling to figure out where he’s going to get his kid to go to college. Does he encourage him to stay at home and go local? Does he tell him to go somewhere far away so that he can have some anonymity. It’s kind of a mess and his head won’t quiet for even a second.

Because sometimes there’s things you can’t do. There’s no one to rough up in this situation, no one to intimidate, no evidence to uncover. Nothing to be done really aside from what? Research and pondering?

And yet all the thoughts in his head suddenly just left, things went quiet, as soon as he felt Bucky there. Funny how that had happened. He’s not even going to pretend that the laptop matters at this point. So he closes it and set it on the table in front of the couch. “You know, I was stuck and now all I can think about is you. Magician in another life, maybe?”

[brooklynbred-moved]

❝I wouldn't find the need to tell you 'I told you so' if you weren't so allergic to admitting I'm right.❞ - @sicariav.

it's warm , everyone in town was more or less in good spirits , there was no reason to not be in a good mood , and steve was definitely in a good mood. so much of a good mood , that when bucky had made the remark on steve's behalf , he looked to the brunette with a playful smirk on his lips. the small 5'4 blonde showing in every aspect of his expression that he was being playful. that was easy to do around bucky though. that was when steve was happiest.

' well someone's in a sassy mood! ' he tossed back , that smile still there. there was a small pause , before the petite blonde shrugged his shoulders. casually looking out the window for a brief moment before bringing his gaze back to his best friend. though he wished they could be more. ' maybe i like hearin ya say it. '

[rejectory]

@sicariav *

His thigh meat bounces, boots toeing apart. He’s wet up to the calves from the outside wade. Tingly from after-shock. He thinks of the girl, alive.

His relief is bookmarked by something that doesn’t belong a hundred miles within her. The lick dries on him like menthol, and he wants Bucky to be full of him everywhere he can. His breath bobs over a glottal stop. It sounds a lot like a hand coming off his throat.

He wipes a blood shape the size of an all-dayer Wrigley’s off the tip of his tongue on the floor by his teeth. His eyeballs feel underwater. The shirt blindfold sits a created headache at the hump of his nose.

Because the Soldier knows all the soft spots to make a hit last, Steve’s nose only just stops going. Just like old times. Before he’s done leaning into the nostalgia, another anxiety catches up.

No backrest. The remembered strain from his spine makes wires of his neck tendons, chin an angry outcrop. He’s been waterboarded before. Part of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s last-minute try-outs for What if. What if captured. Howard watched once. What if interrogated by unfriendly means. Always seemed leagues disproportionate to the scrap intel he did have in reality.

Like he could stumble on something damning if he strayed an inch off. And then, lives after, he did. He can hear his tongue making popping candy as it slides and sticks in plastic wrap fireworks against the scarred insides of his cheeks.

He tunes back in to Bucky’s breath, his sweat salting the room. Steve can tell just by his mouth. Way he’s ready to fuck something, bunched and happy to through the sucked-tight ceiling of zipper teeth, his hand shoots blindly down before he gets his dick pinched.

Don’t, he flusters, hurt me.

He does it himself. The hot flex down his belly doesn’t stop. He feels it as a continuously tugged-on stitch, a pressure point outside of himself stapled to the pulse leap of an image of Bucky’s mouth working him, that last dime’s worth type of looker.

And if this is Bucky—like he asked to be, like the idea tickled him—he’ll make good on any theater Steve drums up. Only he knows what Bucky would or wouldn’t tolerate. And Bucky’s said nothing about hands. Steve’ll spring the last coupla loose screws bolting him intact if he doesn’t get them on him.

Or himself.

Himself’s good. Damn near nourishing. His dick burns in his half-fist and he doesn’t know which way’s fully out or how to fake he’s not playing with it for as long as that’ll take to figure out.

[notafossil]

    ❝ you SURE this is a good idea, pal? ❞

@sicariav​  ♥’d

[shieldedsouls]

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